


Fugitive on Cherokee Road

by TeaandBanjo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14375739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaandBanjo/pseuds/TeaandBanjo
Summary: Jack, without a suit.  It’s a bad hair day, but it’s good day.





	Fugitive on Cherokee Road

“Today is going to be fun,” thought Jack, as he turned the car onto the dirt road. Police business, of course, but fun.

He was wearing all his dirt-colored clothes. The brown trousers that matched nothing, the out of style tweed coat that Rosie kept threatening to throw away, and the greenish-brown jumper ( at which she had frowned slightly when he appeared at breakfast) were all chosen to help him disappear.

The road bumped through a forest of pale-barked trees, which obscured the green top of the mountain. Fallen branches and ferns at ground level were still in a ghostly twilight, but the treetops far above were green from the rising sun.

He pulled the car off the dirt road, and into the gravel next to the two police vehicles. Neat rows of fruit trees marched away to the creek, not visible, but marked on his map. He shut off the engine, pocketed the keys, and looked around to locate Sergeant Thompson and the rest. The dozen or so blue-coated cadets were clustered around Thompson like a bunch of ducklings.

Jack lifted his pack off the passenger seat and confirmed its contents: one topographic map, a compass, a Thermos of tea, and some sandwiches. There wasn’t anything else required for his assignment today. He shouldered the pack, and put on the battered hat he reserved for this sort of activity.

He approached the group silently, and kept to the back. Thompson gave him a quick nod, and wrapped up a few choice remarks about how to avoid snakes.

“Cadets, today's field exercise is tracking.” The sergeant made a gesture directing their attention to Jack. “We are going to give Inspector Robinson here a thirty minute head start, and you are going to use those classroom smarts to find him. I hope it's before dark.”

All eyes were fixed on him. Some of the lads were trying to memorize his face. A fair-haired, eager looking bloke seemed to take in the hat, the pack, and ended up focused on the detail of Jack’s boots. _God, they are young._

Jack tipped his hat, nodded to the sergeant, and took long strides through the rows of fruit trees, towards the creek.

A few minutes later, the short grass under the neatly-planted trees became a mix of ferns and small flowering bushes, and he turned to parallel the running water.

The ground grew more damp, and he was now among trees. Jack checked to make sure he was leaving footprints. Just for a few more minutes.

\------

He checked his watch. The boys should be on his trail now. According to the map, here was the place to start making things difficult. Also, it was time for a sandwich.

A sharp right turn brought him out of the trees and into the weeds at the edge of the road. He looked around, and saw the orchard on his right, and on the left, the end of a ridge that rose toward the mountain.

As he walked along the road, he picked his line up the side of the ridge.

\------

Jack paused, and crouched next to a fire-smudged tree, midway up the slope. His watch said that he’d been walking for two hours, call it four miles, which didn’t matter. The sun was beginning to warm the air, and it was only going to get warmer as the sun rose higher. He checked that the pockets were empty, and left his jacket behind a clump of ferns. He'd hear voices raised in excitement when the cadets found that. It was a dusty-colored tweed. He really wasn’t making things too easy.

A glance back at the river showed no sign of them yet. Well, they were all very green... Sergeant Thompson was planning to keep with the group, and try to make sure none of them fell in a wombat burrow, or got bitten by spiders.

There wasn’t really any good cover on this side of the ridge. A bushfire last year had removed most of it, and the things that had re-grown were still small. He made a zigzag path upward, between clumps of bright green grass, flowering weeds, and scrubby bushes, and paused below the crest of the ridge. Still no trackers. He paused and listened to the birds argue with each other.

It was a short belly crawl to the top of the ridge, everything was easy without a 40 lb pack and a rifle. _Not that a good Aussie snake wouldn’t kill you just as dead as a German sniper’s bullet._ He stayed low for a bit farther. No point in showing a hat against the sky, one of the lads might actually be sharp enough to notice.

Jack looked down the east side of the ridge. The fire hadn’t reached this side, and the light colored bark of the trees was unmarked by soot. The sun was just past overhead now, but soon there would be shadows across ripples in the land, and that would make him harder to spot. There was a dry channel, with dust and gravel, which had no cover at all, and some very small, dense trees to the left of it. It wasn’t going to be enough to actually hide behind, but a man in dusty brown clothes, who held very still, would be almost as safe as houses. Rosie’s choice of knitting wool was brilliant

With a destination chosen, he got to his feet and picked his way across the slope. Pebbles bounded down the hill.

Suddenly, he was sliding, arse in the dirt, as the ground gave way. _Just go with it Robinson, you were heading downhill anyway._

The hill leveled out, and he slid to a stop. Awkward as all hell, but there was no one watching.

He scrambled over to his chosen spot, and sprawled in the shade. A quick examination of the contents of his pack concluded that his Thermos of tea was not damaged. The sandwich used to be less squashed, but there was no time to eat it like the present. The paper wrapped around it ended up back in the pack.

He wondered if there was time for a nap before Thompson and the cadets caught up with him.

Jack thought he might actually doze off. He settled the hat over his face, and listened to the birds and noise of the breeze in the shrubbery. This was much more relaxing than the garden party that he had promised to attend tomorrow.

A stick crunched, downslope, and Jack schooled himself to stillness. No point in giving away the game just yet, especially if it was just an animal.

Some bird or other made an alarmed call. _That is unusual._

A slight scuff noise, perhaps a shoe on gravel?

“Inspector?” asked a voice, from quite close.

Jack lifted his hat. It was, in fact, one of the cadets. “Good afternoon, Cadet ...?”

“Collins, sir.” The lad was sandy-haired, and sturdy. He was practically braced at attention.

“Top marks, Cadet Collins,” said Jack, reaching up to shake the boy’s hand. “Why aren’t you over there with the rest of them?”

“I thought there might be more places to hide on the east side, sir. That’s how it looked on the drive in. And you might be leading them just a little. So if I could spot you first, or see you moving into place…”

“An excellent decision. How did you spot me?”

“Large scrape where you slid down the hill, sir.”

Jack looked up the hill. Sure enough, the disturbed dirt was darker, practically a painted sign pointing at him. “Lots of time in the bush?”

“Summers with my cousins in Bendigo . Mother always complained I was going to go feral, hanging with that lot.”

“Maybe she was right,” observed Jack. _This one has some initiative, and a little bit of sense. I wonder if he can follow directions._

Jack handed his pack to the boy. “Collins, if you place this pack in the middle of that patch of gravel, yes, where there is no cover, please. Then see if you can hide somewhere over there, I think we can set up an ambush.”

“Do we jump out and yell, sir?” Cadet Collins gave an uncertain, wide-eyed look.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. A cheery ‘G’Day’ makes the point just as well.” _I’ve got to keep an eye on this one, thought Jack. I think I’ll be needing someone right about the time he graduates._

**Author's Note:**

> There is (now) actually a Cherokee Road in the province of Victoria. Google maps will show you Streetview pictures of it. It's a one lane dirt road, a little to the east of Mt. Macedon.
> 
> All the rest of the geography is complete fabrication.


End file.
